False Trichotomy
by paxbanana
Summary: The paragon persuade option we all wish we had. SPOILERS for the horrible ME3 ending.


False Trichotomy  
>Word count: roughly 800<br>Spoilers: Horrific ending of ME3.  
>Summary: I'm sure it's one of many fics that attempt to correct at least some of the absolutely horrible writing of ME3's last scenes. This is a paragon female Shepard who united all species, using her paragon persuade options on the god-child thing.<p>

"You have three choices."

Fluid roared in Shepard's ears. She stared at the god-child, swaying in unsteady balance, shaking from pain, and she could hardly understand him. "Three choices?" she whispered, her breath rasping in her lungs. She coughed painfully, and tasted copper.

The god-child simply looked back at her, without emotion.

These would be the most important words she'd ever spoken, to the most powerful being in the galaxy, and all she could say was: "You've got to be kidding me."

It stared at her.

"Three choices, which all blow up the mass relays? I'd rather take my chances with the Reapers!"

"That's illogical. You will never defeat the Reapers."

"You're asking me to destroy the galaxy!" Shepard's pain shivered away with a pulse of adrenaline. She was angry. "For no better reason than you _think_ we might be destroyed by machines? When the Geth, who were forced into war by the Quarians, who pushed the Quarians off their homeworld, are now not only fighting alongside our forces to destroy the Reapers, but also helping rebuild a home for the Quarians on their homeworld!"

The god-child was silent. It watched her and offered no reply.

"What the hell are you anyway? Who made you?"

It said, "I do not know."

Her anger made her words sharp and clear. "So you don't even know if you're doing this because someone before you programmed you to run things this way—not for a good goddamn reason, but for the hell of it. How do you know you're doing the right thing?"

"Because that is the way it is."

"But _it isn't_! Look at that!" She pointed out toward the battle. "It brought you Geth, fighting alongside Quarians! It brought you a unified galaxy, fighting for their—our—right to live and make what mistakes we make. The Salarians, Turians, and Krogan are all fighting together, even after the damn genophage! Every single race of this galaxy is invested in this fight, organic or synthetic, and they're fighting alongside each other for the greater good."

It was silent for a long moment. Then it simply said, "Chaos must be controlled."

Shepard knew there was no way to persuade this god-child to understand, but she had to try—if only to confirm to herself that she believed in the galaxy she'd grown up in. "The whole point of life is chaos! Every single advancement we've ever made has been because of chaos. Without chaos, there is no evolution, no change! Without chaos, _there is no order_! You're presuming an end that will never happen—not because you destroy all life, but because you don't give us, our civilizations, a chance to change the cycle and prove you wrong! We did—we _did_! Take a look out there! There's all the proof you need!" She raised her pistol once again, her hand shaking.

The god-child was silent. Then, it said, "This is a compelling argument. I will need time to process the information."

Shepard fell to her knees, too tired to cry. She'd done everything she could, and it wasn't enough. It would never be enough. She'd failed.

The god-child continued, "I will observe how organic life continues until the next cycle. If, indeed, chaos is the harbinger of advancement, you will be ready at that time to defeat the Reapers alone."

Shepard had no time to process her relief. She fell prostrate and blacked out.

* * *

><p>"Shepard. Shepard! Damn it, girl, don't you die on me!"<p>

The pain was back, and it was back in force. Shepard processed the cool smooth metal against her cheek, and her eyes opened, taking in the smear of blood her wounded hand had left behind on the surface. Slowly, she realized who had spoken, and she carefully rolled onto her shoulder and looked into Anderson's worried eyes. "I thought you died."

"I'm glad you're not a nurse, Shepard." Anderson's face twisted in pain as he heaved a breath. "I just blacked out." He shook his head vaguely to one side. "_Look_."

The fierceness of his voice compelled Shepard to crane her head around. She stared. Past the edge of the control panel, through the opened arms of the citadel, there was no sign of battle. Just silence and floating debris. "Where are the Reapers?"

"Gone. Just gone," Anderson said, reverently. "When I came to, that was what I saw: the Reapers were here, then they weren't anymore. The Crucible worked. I don't know how, but goddamn, did you come through for us."

_"Shepard? Hackett here. Whatever you did, it worked."_ The man's voice shook uncharacteristically. _"All of the Reapers are gone. Every last one. We're sending someone ASAP to pick you up."_

There was something at the tip of Shepard's mind, a coin of knowledge tipped in just the wrong direction, but she couldn't turn it over. Just vague déjà vu.

"Hell." Anderson winced as he shifted. "They might just be regrouping. At least our troops get some time to rest; they get some hope."

"No." She was certain, but she'd didn't know how she knew. Shepard had no doubt when she said, "They're gone." And, for the first time since she'd touched the beacon on Eden Prime, she felt relief. Shepard began to cry. "They're gone. We're safe."


End file.
